Fairytale
by Nakimochiku
Summary: in the end, everything had just been a fairytale. France x Uk, oneshot, enjoy.


Fairytale

For the first time since he had been a boy, Francis sat by the water of the lake and cried. Some good meters away, the music of the party could be heard, the laughter and the chattering of two faced nobles, all pretending to be more than they were, likening themselves to god.

Francis sighed, and took another swig of the wine bottle he had stolen. He had been a god among them once too. But with nobles, once you've lost money, you've lost it all. His father had gambled away everything. The only thing he had left was his name, and his debts, after his father had died. He was disgraced, a man walking with giants, trying to keep stride.

He had been able to ignore it for a long time. The rumors had mounted, until everywhere he went, he felt as though he heard their pitying words. There was nothing left for him in this world. Who would marry into a family with nothing? To a man who was a notorious flirt? The world of fog and deceptive masks had long faded from his reach, growing farther and farther away until his own old mask lay as crumbled ruins at his feet.

There was nothing left.

All the pain of the past few months welled up under his closed eyelids, slipped down his cheeks and dotted his satin powder blue doublet. The cheerful music behind him in the forest only added to his dreary mood. He couldn't do this. He couldn't smile and flirt and pretend when he could see them mocking him with their eyes. He couldn't do it anymore.

He took another swig of wine, staring out at the clear lake, the moon full and bright reflected on its smooth surface, like a black mirror. The lanterns from the party glowed, filling the warm summer night with a phantasmal mood. Francis smiled somberly, sipping his wine and lifting his face to the wind, cooling his flushed hot cheeks. Too much crying. No more of that now. It was a romantic night, he may as well enjoy it.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying out here?" Startled, Francis looked up from jeweled slippers and green cloak to the pale face of a man. His skin glowed in the moonlight, forest green eyes glittering with mirth. The smirk he gave was an arrogant one.

Francis snorted, turning back to the lake. He felt that if he looked at the young man any longer, his eyes would burn. His entire being was drawn to the man. "Who is crying? Not me." He jumped at the feel of thin fingers through his hair, undoing the ribbon that held the gold curls back. He wasn't sure if he liked such an intimate display from someone whom he had never met before, but wasn't entirely capable of denying this man.

"Such pretty hair..." the man mumbled, leaning down and staring at him closely. "I'm Arthur. And your name?" Francis paused a moment. What could he possibly lose? If he was lucky, he would manage to get this beautiful man into his bed, immerse himself in all the carnal pleasure of flesh, touch and kiss and forget all the pains of this night and every other.

Just for a little while.

"Francis." He whispered coyly, giving his best smile. Maybe it lost its power with dried tears on his face, but that didn't matter. His eyes betrayed his lewd thoughts, sparkling with a light of their own, darkened with desire and pain. Arthur only grinned wider, taking his hand and pulling him up. He left the bottle of wine where it lay. Arthur's fingers were cold, but his eyes were bewitching. Arthur knew this too, and drew him further into the depths of them.

Who initiated the kiss, Francis neither knew nor cared. All he knew was the hell and heaven and all that was in between of Arthur's lips, the smooth slides of his tongue, the warm brush of his breath. It was a sweet, soft kiss. If it meant anything, that didn't matter. All Francis could comprehend was the taste of wild forest, powerful, not to be tamed. Arthur whispered something against his mouth, eyes bright, burning with barely veiled yearning. They parted for just a moment, stared long and hard at each other.

"Come with me." Arthur's invitation hung on the air for a long time before Francis erased it with another kiss. Thin fingers found their way into his hair once more, twisting and tangling in the curls, forcing him closer. Francis wanted it. The lack of space. Closer, closer until there was no telling where he stopped and Arthur began. Closer until they melded together and he could forget.

"Where?" He whispered back, surprisingly fearful, laying kisses over the pale face. It felt just as it looked, smooth, soft and supple. He'd shower this man in all he had left of love, if he had to. His heart, soul, everything, just to see those eyes glow as they were now. Arthur pulled back long enough to grin at him.

"Does it really matter?" His lips were devoured in another hungry kiss, Francis let his arm curl around the thin waist before him, pulling him closer. No. It didn't matter. So long as he was away from this place and these people and he'd never have to live through their torment again. So long as he could just forget and taste this man forever.

He took a moment to admire Arthur's beauty under the moonlight, cheeks flushed. He blinked. For a second Arthur had looked different, his eyes large, ears pointed, skin nearly green and face drawn and small. Francis frowned, shaking his head. Too much wine perhaps? Arthur grinned malevolently, his mouth filled with pointy teeth, large green eyes glittering ominously. It took him a moment to understand.

"You're not human are you?" He froze, sharp teeth nicking at the line of his jaw, kissing where the skin was turning red, licking at any blood that bloomed. Arthur hummed, flashing Francis another devious grin.

"Does that matter either?" Before he could reply, they were kissing again, the taste just as intoxicating as before. Francis let out a groan, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Arthur's head. No. This did not matter either. A human could only take him so far. A spirit... perhaps they could go much farther. Arthur took a step back. He looked normal again. "Come."

Francis followed. There was no reason not to. The other lead him further into the forest. The music, the lights, the two faced self-proclaimed gods, they all drew farther away until there was nothing. Just Arthur, himself, and the feel of Arthur's hand in his, fingers tinier than his own.

The moon gazed down and lent a touch of magic to everything, Arthur's skin bleached milk white. Perhaps this was magic. Even worse, perhaps this was a dream. He wished, futilely, that he could just stay asleep, in a world that was not his own.

They emerged in a clearing, and color assaulted Francis's senses. Everywhere he looked, beautiful people danced and laughed, their eyes and words malicious. Arthur fit right in among them, all blonde and ethereal.

The music was beautiful and light, at the same time he felt like his ears would bleed. On everything there was a touch of magic, the beauty of the fay lit up and on display. Francis smiled, this wasn't his world, but he would change until it was.

Arthur grabbed his one hand, another fairy grabbed his other and more from there until they were all spinning in endless circles around the bon fire. He felt joy swelling in every part of him, and he couldn't hide the silly grin on his face.

At some point someone handed him a goblet of wine, he drank heartily. The faerie wine tasted different from his own, sweeter, tasting of magic and spreading inside him until he felt magical too, almost as powerful as they. But none of that mattered. Nothing but forgetting mattered.

Many grabbed his hand, spinning him round to cheerful music that wasn't of earth, their hands demanding a perfect dance partner. Sometimes he thought he was floating, wrapped in airy arms, dragged away from earth and body.

The Fay around him were singing, and for a second he wondered if it was possible to be so happy all the time. He added his own voice to the singing, their words strange on his tongue, but he felt as though he knew them. He kept dancing, panting, out of breath from laughter. Reality fell away. There was nothing but forgetting and enjoying.

He ate whatever food was given to him, took whatever hand was offered to him. And even when Francis couldn't dance anymore, he kept dancing, drunk enough not to care anymore, sober enough to know that if he stopped everything, the memories, the pain, would all come rushing back.

Arthur took his hand once more, smiling at him. His glamour had worn off, at some points he looked human, at others his eyes grew wide and the deepest shade of green. Francis kissed him anyway, savoring the flavor of forest and barely veiled power, and a hint of something sweeter. They danced, close and intimate, staring into each other's eyes. Arthur smelled like autumn wind, and when they kissed again, Francis felt electricity under his skin.

They both moaned softly, collapsing under an oak tree. Arthur tore at his clothes, ripping off the soft blue doublet and the shirt underneath, attacking his chest with bites and kisses. Francis groaned faintly, pushing away Arthur's green cloak and the sheer frock under it, the faerie's skin smooth and translucent under his fingers. Desperately, they clawed at each other, seeking more, taking more, giving more.

It didn't matter. Just forgetting, just feeling and fucking and kissing. This was okay.

As Francis and Arthur were laying on the moss, satisfied and drowsy, the party was still going on. The Fay giggled, entertained by the human before picking him up and pulling him back into the dancing.

He was swept away in the enchantment, dancing long hours into the night. Drinking and laughing but not having to pretend because these creatures didn't bother hiding their cruel intent. It wasn't until the sun was just breaking over the horizon that the party died, the only remnants being circles left in the grass where they had danced round and round the fire. He lay watching the sunrise, half naked, hair wild about his face, Arthur right beside him.

If he never had to go back to the world outside of this one, there would be no complaints.

"Now that you've had our food, you can be with us forever." Arthur informed softly, the sunlight like a halo illuminating everything. Francis took another sip of wine from a golden goblet and gave the faerie a flirtatious smile.

"Is that so? I wasn't planning on leaving anyway, mon cheri." he pressed a chaste kiss against his lips. One of Arthur's hands came up to pull him in further, deepening the kiss until Francis was on top of him, taking more, forgetting. Just slaves to pleasure in the awakening dawn.

_**7 years later**_

The faerie girl before him giggled attractively, her blank white eyes shining with mischief, promising dirty things. He felt Arthur's jealous green gaze on him, but chose to ignore it, slipping his arm around her naked waist. Her giggle was a tad bit irritating, but that didn't matter. It was worth it to see Arthur so angry. He would not take her up on her offer. Sylphs were dangerous girls to mess around with. But teasing Arthur was just too fun.

"Excuse me, mon belle fille." Francis whispered to her with an enticing glance. Arthur crooked a finger at him, turning down a deserted marble hallway. He followed easily without a backward glance at the Sylph girl. Arthur stood waiting for him in the hallway, glowering dangerously.

"What was that?" he hissed out, his glamour flickering for a second, showing Francis large flashing green eyes, and pointed teeth bared in a snarl. He was not afraid, instead he gave the faerie a provocative smile, leaning closer and forcing Arthur back against the wall.

"What? A little mingling with a pretty girl? Is there harm in that, mon cheri?" There was, they both knew it, he was always doing this. But neither cared, not when desire was already sticky between them as Arthur reached up, fingers tangling in his hair. The other hand pushed up his shirt, the faerie cloth soft over his skin, sharp nails scoring lines on his chest. He smirked, gazing into Arthur's bewitching eyes. There was a moment of silence before their mouths were sealed in a kiss, both moaning out in pleasure.

"You're a horrible, sexy bastard." Arthur gasped out, pulling Francis's shirt over his head. Francis grinned, hands finding Arthur's sensitive places, nipping at the pale exposed neck. "And I hate you very much."

He pulled away for a moment, eyes darkened with lust. "If you have time to talk, you should be doing better things with that mouth, mon cheri."

About an hour later, both Francis and Arthur emerged from the hallway, disheveled but throughly satisfied. Perhaps it wasn't right to constantly tease Arthur. But it always had an amusing end result. Later, they both knew, Francis would write Arthur a love song by means of further apology. Arthur seemed to like them a lot.

The word "love" did not exist among these creatures. It was lust, or it was tolerance, or nothing in between. Perhaps that was why Arthur enjoyed Francis's love songs to him, telling him about all that was wonderful about himself. The Fay may have better music, but humans seemed to have defeated them in terms of emotion.

Arthur lay among the pillows of their bed, his smile soft and almost innocent as he listened to the strums of the lute, watching Francis's expert fingers on the strings as he sang. Later, tomorrow even, Francis would make him angry again. And the cycle would repeat itself. But Arthur didn't dwell on that, merely listening to romanticized words that told him of his beauty.

"Love you." Francis whispered, leaning over Arthur to kiss him. Neither knew if this was true or not. Didn't know if they believed it. But left it be as they kissed, long and gentle, hands not seeking completion or frenzied by lust, just touching, enjoying the feel of smooth skin. They explored each other almost reverently, tenderly touching. Each ghost of a touch was an apology.

Arthur moved away from Francis's lips to press a kiss over the human's heart. His glamour flickered again as a million emotions he couldn't remember feeling before swirled inside of him. Francis smiled and kissed his forehead, before they both curled up to sleep.

"You whore!"

"You bitch!"

"I hate you! Get out of my face!" Every word Arthur hurled at him was laced with magic, each landing like a blow to his gut. Francis snarled. He didn't have magic, but he could make his words hurt just as much.

"That was my line, Mon Cheri. I hate you more than you could possibly imagine!" They were always doing this. Always fighting then making up. They were fascinated by each other, but at the same time wanted to test the limits. Who could make the other madder? Who could make the apology sex better? It was all a competition.

Arthur stared at him for a very long time, shoulders tensed for the fight, fists clenched. "If that's true than why are you still here?" Maybe, they were looking for proper confessions of love. Francis was there for Arthur, for the beauty of the faerie that he always sang about. Even if it was true, he couldn't admit it.

"I wonder that myself sometimes." Francis sneered. The expression almost faltered though as Arthur's eye grew dangerously dark. Perhaps today, the limits would break. Fear laced down his spine at the cold look Arthur gave him, his faerie side peeking through, glamour dropping. No matter what, Arthur always looked sickeningly beautiful.

"Is that so?" Arthur asked deliberately, his words snaking around and gripping Francis's heart tight. "Then I should fix that problem for you, shouldn't I?" Arthur was by his side, hand fisted in his hair before Francis could blink or think of an apology. Pain stabbed at his skull. Arthur was stronger than him, he knew, but that didn't change the humiliation that pricked his chest. Even that did not matter.

What had happened? What had changed?

The limits had been breeched and broken, and Francis wasn't sure about what to do now that the game was over. "Mon Cheri, what are you planning?" Arthur didn't answer, merely smiled evilly, face dark with his ill intent. Arthur brought him to the door of the Sidhe and threw him to the floor, before turning away abruptly. Francis watched his back, admiring the view, the subtle curve of Arthur's hip, his feet spread and showing he angry he was.

"Leave. Now." the sound of his voice was thick with tears, small shoulders shaking. The tone was odd. Francis had never heard it before. He had never seen any of the Fay cry. They were too strong, too beautiful to be touched by something as mundane as tears. Francis sat on the floor, confused.

"Mon cheri–...."

"I said leave!" with a great thrust of magic, Arthur shoved him out of the Sidhe. Francis saw his bewitching eyes filled with tears, the saltine liquid turning to pearls. He wondered vaguely at the sight, had he done that? Before his vision went black.

When Francis woke up, he was cold. Mists covered the ground, dampening his clothes and leaving him shivering. Everything about the world outside was strange. Far away, noise rumbled on in the distance. It was fast becoming night, but roads and houses were lit up by lanterns without flame. Suddenly, he remembered something Arthur had told him. That the time inside the sidhe was different. And even if Francis only spent a little time inside, the world would be different when he came out, centauries would have sped by.

The lake beside him reflected the fake flame lights. He was cold, lonely. He missed Arthur. He curled in on himself, wishing Arthur would come find him, take him back to the only place he knew. He felt like a little boy again, running from that which upset him.

Realization crashed down upon him. He had been forced from his dream, forced to wake up and was left to cold harsh reality.

He had nothing here.

For the first time in what felt like centauries, Francis sat by the lake. And cried.

The End


End file.
